


hate's a strong word (when you're eight inches deep)

by avatarellie



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angry Sex, Choking, F/M, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Smut, just two fiery bitches fucking each other, kuvira enjoys getting her shit clapped, mako fucks the shit out kuvira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatarellie/pseuds/avatarellie
Summary: This is just some tension until Mako rocks Kuvira's shit.Everybody thank our friend Alfredo for writing this and letting me publish it. (They didn't want to be directly associated with the smutty publication because uh. That's unprofessional. So here I am, giving the world their smut because I love these sexy bitches.)
Relationships: Kuvira/Mako (Avatar)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	hate's a strong word (when you're eight inches deep)

It’s early in the morning when Mako receives the call from Beifong. _Kuvira is to be transferred. To Zaofu. You’re the officer I’m putting on transport duty._ At first he’s annoyed. This is his week off, the first in many, many months, and now he’s supposed to transport one of the worst war criminals the world has seen since Ozai to a huge, elegant palace for house arrest? He snorts while he thinks about it. _Yeah, okay._

When the order comes for the transportation to be moved up two days, he is even more unnerved. Not only is Kuvira getting to go free, she’s getting to go free two days earlier than originally intended. And he guesses that it’s not actually freedom she’s getting, because he’s been to Zaofu in the past year. The domes have been put back in place, and the city resembles a snow globe-like prison more than an actual city. If she’ll be restricted there, then he thinks it might not be the worst thing to have her out of Republic City and far, far away from hurting anyone he loves. 

They board the airship in the middle of the night. It’s dark, the sky so pitch black that if he looks up, it’s almost like he’s not seeing anything at all. It’s curious, really, because he’s sure that he has never seen the sky without stars. But tonight, there is no light from above as the bottoms of his shoes clack against the metal floor of the airship. He snorts again. _Yeah, okay._ _Ensure the safety of everyone from a vicious, metalbending dictator while aboard a completely metal airship. Sounds logical._ Mako looks around the ship, silently cataloguing every piece of metal that can be used against them in an attack. When Kuvira finally boards, after he’s done his rounds and checked the entirety of the ship for stowaways or contraband, she’s not chained like he would have expected. Instead, she walks completely untethered, her hands and feet free of chains and nothing prohibiting her from bending her way out of this ship. He freezes. His mind races. This is not what he agreed to. She’s supposed to be in chains, subdued at any cost. Instead, she coasts from room to room, no restraints. The guard accompanying her turns at the entrance to the airship and gives Mako a salute before he hops off. The firebender races forward, confused because certainly there would be other officers accompanying them. He’s not expected to take an unleashed Kuvira to Zaofu by himself, is he? 

“Hey!” he shouts. “Where are the other officers?” The metalbending officer turns, rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Ah, well. Chief thought it best if there was no...uh...collateral damage.”

“So it’s just me then?” Mako squints, furrows his brows. 

“You, her, and the pilot.” The officer nods. His chin warbles in discontent. Mako groans. 

“You tell Beifong that we’re having words when I get back.” Mako extends his hand and point his finger. He’s furious. If something is to happen with Kuvira aboard this ship, he has no backup. This was not the plan. 

——————————————————

Mako is pleasantly surprised when Kuvira slinks into the cabin of the ship and takes a seat. She silently props her feet up on the coffee table of one of the lounge’s couches and tilts her head back and towards the window. Her eyes slip closed as her now long braid scrapes against the metal floor. There’s a grin on her face, and for a moment Mako is unnerved. _What could_ _she be planning?_ But she simply peeks one eye open and looks at him through long, dark lashes. 

“You just gonna stand there the whole trip, or are you gonna sit down, Hot Rod?” she says, and her voice is low and gravely. It _does_ things to him that it definitely shouldn’t. He gulps, and she lets out a low chuckle that hits him in his chest. 

“I’m comfortable," he snarks, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He’s not, really. And he suspects she knows that by the way she lifts her face to look him up and down before shrugging her shoulders and looking back out the window. There’s a hunger in her eyes, though, when she looks. And suddenly, his stomach feels much like it did when he overloaded that mecha. There’s lightning in his blood, coursing through his veins and tickling just under the surface of his skin. His cheeks flush red. “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ll be in Zaofu before dinner.” His voice is low and menacing. 

Kuvira is startled for a moment. This is a darkness she didn’t know the firebender had in him. Granted, she doesn’t know much about him, but when she shifts in her seat and looks back at him, she can see the hate fill his eyes. She can see the rage under the surface. It’s bubbling and churning, and she’s sure he’s tempted to let it out on her. He’s dangerous in a way she’s not seen before, and she’s so tempted to just push him that small bit further. But she does not. Instead, she motions to the seat across from her with her right hand, waves a bit. “You can hate me all you want. That seat is still open when you get over yourself.” She grins. 

Mako stiffens, but he relents and steps forward before sitting across from her. He can study her a bit closer from here, can see the way her chin curves sharply into a strong jaw line. The muscles in her neck strain with the weight of her head leaning against the window. He looks her over. Her arms are strong, but sinewy. They lay limply between her legs, legs that are spread as her feet press against the edge of the small coffee table between them. In her green tunic, she nearly blends into the leather of the couch behind her, but he can just make out the subtle curves of her hips as his eyes rake up her form. Kuvira is more delicate than he imagined. For someone so powerful, for someone who inspired fear in the minds of so many, she’s quite underwhelming up close. But then, her fiery eyes meet his, and he’s taken aback by just how much there is behind them. He can see the torment, the hurt, the pain that dance behind the ember flakes around the pupils of vibrant green eyes. It’s subtle, but it’s there. And then it’s gone. For a moment, he hopes that this Kuvira will linger just a while longer, but then she’s straightening her shoulders and clenching her jaw and staring out the window with a new resolve. 

“You can hate me all you want. But leering? That’s beneath you, Mako.” Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper, but Mako swears he hears a growl to her words. 

“I’m not leering.” 

“Really? Not leering?” Her eyes switch from the window to meet his, and Mako nearly gasps, does actually lean back in his seat. “Everyone thinks that, because I’m some crazed dictator... _was_ a crazed dictator, they can look me up and down however they please. You, the people in the streets, the guards at the jail.” He catches her shudder. It’s small, just a shiver in her shoulder, but the way her mouth pulls down at the corners tells him this is something that is truly bothering her. It infuriates him. 

“You have no right to be angry at how people look at you.” He states, simply. Their eyes are locked, and he sees rage flash behind her pupils. “Everything you have done has lead you to here, to how people see you. You don’t get to be angry that people look at you differently when you’ve murdered hundreds of innocent people.” 

Kuvira rolls her eyes then. “You’re just like the rest of them, Hot Rod.” She shuffles her feet off of the coffee table and leans forward. Her legs are still spread, but she’s got her elbows propped up, one on each knee. Their faces get nearer, because Mako is never one to back down from a fight, and she snarls at him. “This...superiority complex you’ve got going for yourself might convince others, but not me, street rat.” 

He can feel her breath on his face, can smell the mint leaves she had used that morning and a faint remnant of coffee. His eyes flick down for a moment, catching the way her tongue peeks out to lick at her bottom lip. _Street rat._ It echoes in his head. _Street rat._ A mantra. _Street rat._ And suddenly, he’s standing with a hand around her neck, pressing her back into the light green leather of the couch behind her. Their faces are only millimeters apart now, and she chuckles. 

“Hot Rod’s got some spice,” she hisses, and she reaches up to wrap one of her hands around his wrist . “I’ve always loved it when something’s got a good kick to it.” He presses her deeper into the couch and leans in to her ear.

“You’re one to talk, orphan. Bet your parents knew _exactly_ what you would become when they dropped you off on Su’s doorstep.” It might just be the cruelest thing he’s ever said, but right now, the rage that boils through him is all consuming. He will feel guilty later, might even apologize. But right now, his eyes are scanning the expanse of her neck as she mewls against him and presses her hot cheek to the side of his face. 

“Are you going to stand there with your hand around my throat, or are you going to fuck me, Mako?”

——————————————————

Mako’s free hand, the one Kuvira hasn’t had much of a mind to pay attention to, is suddenly wrapping her long, dark braid around his fist and pulling until her head yanks back violently. The hand he has wrapped around her throat squeezes tighter before it traces an invisible line down between the cliff of her collarbones. She whines into the air, and for a moment, Mako is sure that someone is going to hear. But then he remembers: they’re alone, at the back of an empty airship with only a pilot. He pulls her braid even harder then, just to hear her breathy gasp fill the air. His other hand flicks the buttons of her emerald t-shirt. One, then two, and suddenly he’s ripping it open. His fingers find the edge of her bindings just as his lips find the soft skin under her ear. He is not gentle. He bites the skin until she lets out a squeak, then runs his tongue over the reddened flesh and repeats. Kuvira is squirming beneath him. He’s practically jumped over the coffee table in his rage, has one knee resting on the leather between her thighs as he leans on the other. Kuvira’s hands are on his chest, his torso. When he sucks on her neck and grabs her breast, her fingers clench into the fabric of his uniform jacket. She sags into the seat a little, still letting out gasps and whines as his hand pulls on the braid at the back of her head and his mouth traces the lines of her neck. 

How long has it been? Kuvira wonders. Almost two years since she’s felt the touch of another human in this way. She huffs out a groan when his hand pulls at the bindings on her chest. They tighten for a moment, and then they’re loose and falling around her exposed stomach. Mako releases her braid so he can help her shed her shirt and the white linen that was wrapped around her chest. She’s suddenly half naked under this man whose hand is pulling at her braid again, undoing the knot at the bottom and running his fingers through the loosened plaits. She shakes her head free of the braid so that her hair falls around them like a curtain. Mako seems pleased for a second, and then his hand slides up the back of her neck, curls into the hair there, and pulls. 

“Oh!” Kuvira gasps. The way he has pulled her has his knee resting snugly between her legs. She grinds into it absent minded, and they both let out groans at the pressure. Mako’s lips find her chest, and as he sucks, she rolls her hips into his knee, into his thigh. The seam of her pants is pressing just right against her core as she rubs against him. “Mako, harder,” she whines. 

His other hand finds her breast again, and he pinches her nipple between his fore and middle fingers. She nearly squeals when he pulls on it roughly. His mouth makes its way down her chest, finding her other nipple and wrapping around it with lips and teeth. He scrapes against the hardened bud and shoves his knee harder between her thighs at the same time. 

“Ah!” Kuvira yelps, and despite the fact that her mind is spinning and her hips are rolling into the defined muscles of his thigh as she searches desperately for relief, her hands find the buttons on his uniform, and she reaches behind him, untucks it from the back, and pulls. They separate shortly so she can pull it over his head, and she scrapes her nails against the skin of his back as she does so. It makes him growl, and she can feel his length strain against the tightness of his pants. It creates more pressure against her core, sends a quick spark straight to her clit. She mewls on her next exhale, and suddenly, Mako is gone. The pressure between her legs is left as a painful ache, and despite the emptiness between her thighs, her hips keep rolling forward, looking for more. 

“Wha—“ but then there’s hands on her hips, yanking at her pants until she’s completely naked. Once her underwear has been slipped off her foot, Mako’s hands are back on her waist, but he doesn’t continue his assault on her senses. He grips her hips tightly in his hands, until she’s sure that she will have bruises there tomorrow, and he flips her over. Her chest meets cool leather as he presses into her again. She can feel him hardening against her backside as he reaches around and lays a hand flat against her stomach. His fingers are just below her navel, pressing and sliding as he grinds against her from behind, and she pushes back against him just as hard. The pressure is back, that heat in her lower belly that just tightens and tightens. His hips are rolling against her core, one hand on her lower belly, the other at her hip, pulling her back with each thrust. Mako’s lips are against her ear, and he grunts with every movement. 

It’s not enough, though, and one of her hands that she has splayed and clawing at the leather of the couch finds its way to her front, to Mako’s hand that’s still pressing into her. She grips it and slides down until she’s sure he gets the message. His fingers dance along her skin of their own accord now, through the curls between her legs, until he has two fingers against her clit. She could scream from the pressure, from the way he circles her clit every time he thrusts his hips forward, pressing her core against his dick. He rubs her hard and fast, and then his fingers are running through the length of her until he thrusts two of them inside. His fingers are thick, much thicker than she expected, and her head lulls forward and hits the leather. “Ah, Mako, ah!” 

The pitch in her voice is higher now. It gets higher with each thrust of his fingers, and she can feel the way the calloused pads of his fingertips press against that spot inside her. It makes her gasp, and he pulls his fingers almost all the way out before slamming a third back into her. “Oh, fuck!” she shouts, and both of her hands claw and rip into the leather of the couch she’s leaning against. Their bodies are slick with sweat now, and just as she feels the fluttering of her walls around his fingers, he pulls his hand away. She lets out a growl of frustration as her forehead thuds against the couch back. Surely this is far greater a punishment than the two years she spent in prison. 

His mouth leaves its place behind her ear, and subconsciously, Kuvira leans back, looking for that heat again. She can hear the fumble of his fingers against his belt buckle, the thud of his trousers against the metal floor, and suddenly, his body is pressed back up against her, his chest to her back, his dick nestled firmly between the slopes of her ass. His breath is against her ear again, and he bites her earlobe, sucks at it, before he releases it with a pop. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he husks against her ear. It’s the first time anyone has taken the time to tell her that in the heat of the moment, and she doesn’t respond. “Kuvira,” he mutters again. “Is this okay?” 

Suddenly the heat in her belly is even hotter than before, and she pushes back against his cock and lets out a loud whine. “Mako,” she whimpers. “Mako, please. Please. Just fuck me.” 

That’s all he needs to hear, and with a swift maneuver, he aligns his cock at her entrance. The head of his dick presses into her, and Mako groans into her ear again. “Fuck, Kuvira. You’re so tight.” 

She can only whimper in response, because he’s pressing forward until he almost fills her to the hilt. The hand that was splayed across her belly slides up her torso until it’s flat against the crevice between her breasts. He pulls her backward until she can no longer lean on the leather for support. Her knees press into the cushion of the couch seat as she falls back, and he pivots his feet to spread her further apart until her ankles dangle to the side of his thighs. He forces another inch into her, and she screams in surprise. 

“Fuck!”

His voice is gentle in her ear, and his other hand leaves her hip and and slides across to flatten under her navel once again. He pulls back, then thrusts and presses down with that hand, and the pressure is so delicious it’s almost painful. “You’re doing so good, Kuvira. Come on, you can take it.” He thrusts again, this time the full length of him into her, and her toes curl as his hand presses against the bulge it creates in her lower belly. “You’re so tight,” he whispers huskily. 

Kuvira has no words. Never has she been fucked like this. One of her hands reaches forward and braces against the seat back. The other snakes back around Mako and urges his hips into her with every thrust. He’s thick and long, and she’s stuffed to the brim and panting against his cheek. “Mako,” she whimpers. He thrusts again, and the coil in her lower belly tightens almost painfully. “Oh, spirits. Mako, I think I’m gonna—“ 

He thrusts harder, picks up the pace until she’s scrambling against him. Her hips roll forward and back every time he moves, and she’s desperate and wanton and so _full_. His hand presses harder against her stomach, and she whines against his ear. “Oh, fuck. Oh!” she screams, and suddenly her body goes rigid and and she lets out a feral little sound. Her body tries to curl in on itself as she comes, her walls fluttering around his cock. He groans, because she feels so _tight_ around him, and he slows for a moment as he holds her limp body up against his chest. She’s mewing in his ear, body still shuddering, when he picks up the pace again. He thrusts harder this time, in sync with the clenching of her walls as she still reels from the aftershock of her first orgasm. The sound of surprise she makes is almost too much. He almost comes right then and there, but he steels his resolve, thrusts harder until the only thing he can hear are their heavy breaths and the slapping of his hips against her ass. 

Kuvira is nearly screaming with every thrust now, and Mako knows she won’t last much longer. He snakes the hand on her front down until his fingers find her clit again, and he rubs hard and fast against the little bundle of nerves. Kuvira comes again with a shrill scream, her body shaking violently as her hips stutter and roll back against him. The coil in his own belly tightens, and he keeps his hips pistoning back and forth until finally he comes with a loud shout and collapses against her back. 

——————————————————

They both sit naked and pressed up against the leather of the couch until Mako finally finds his strength and moves off of her. He finds his pants on the floor, yanks them on and buckles his belt as he watches Kuvira. Her chest heaves. Her shoulders raise with every breath, and she’s still shaking from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Quietly, he goes to the bathroom and grabs a cloth from under the sink, wets it, and returns to see her laying down with one foot on the floor and the other leg bent at the knee, foot pressed into the seat cushion and leaning against the seat back. Her face is turned as she looks right at him. He approaches her and wordlessly reaches between her legs with the cloth to clean their mess. She stares at him with shock and awe in her eyes. Never has someone fucked her so royally and then taken the time to care for her. She watches him as his hands move between her legs, wiping at her thighs. When he is finished, Mako tosses the rag into a trash bin across the aisle. He picks up her shirt and pants on the floor and lazily helps her into them. It’s the strangest and kindest thing she thinks anyone has ever done for her. 

Boy, was Zaofu going to be boring now.


End file.
